by JB Penrose
“Today is not about addressing accusations,” she looked sternly at Gideon and at his mother’s mental urging he stepped back from the table in line with his brother. “Today is about learning the Truth.” She re-focused her attention on the whole of Delphi. The complete truth was all that would save them now, and she hoped it would be enough.
Thinking it best to start with the problem already presented, she nodded toward the valise and signaled for Peter to show the roleau. As Peter lifted the crystal from the bag, it furled with lightening bolts bright enough to reflect on the phosphorous pool many levels below. He held it out to those at the table, balanced loosely on his open palm.
The collective sighs and gasps in the cavern was felt by everyone. She sensed the slight vibration as everyone sync’d together in relief to the comforting hum that linked each of them as One. She closed her eyes for a moment of prayer that Truth would keep them bound together.
Peter patiently presented his roleau as Delphi soaked up the realization there was more than one Oracle. In his hand, the active roleau pulsed, and then the crystal roleau soften its activity to a soft luminous pearl. She heard every thought in the cavern as Delphi recognized the roleau as their vision of the Oracle.
Before she or Peter could explain the difference, Iscar snatched the roleau from his hand, massaging the globe identical to the Oracle he held so dear to his heart.
Peter’s reaction was fast, but not quick enough. “I suggest you give that back to me before you hurt yourself.”
Gabriel was already circling to counter Iscar’s retreat toward the Tiphereth; Gideon stood squarely between Iscar and his brother.
“The Oracle belongs to Delphi,” Iscar stated plainly.
“That roleau is mine.”
“Stop it!” Rachel stood, aghast at what she saw brewing between them. “This is not how we’re going to settle things!”
The tension in Delphi built with each mental question. “What’s going on?”
“The roleau is mine,” Peter repeated. He took a step toward Iscar. “The pieces were given to me freely. Hand it over.”
“Iscar!” Rachel stepped between them and held out her hands for the roleau. “This is not your Oracle; give it to me.” Rachel felt Iscar’s bond with the roleau grow like an addiction.
Peter’s answer was aggressive and his control was formidable. As his link with the roleau intensified, the heat made it too hot for Iscar to hold. The roleau responded to his call; he pulled it from Iscar’s grasp with sheer will.
Iscar’s amazement, as well as his anxiety, set all of Delphi in motion. Gideon grabbed for the valise on the table and ran toward Peter, quickly pushing the luminous pearl from his hands and into the bag. The posession of the bag, however, was then in dispute. Peter dove after him, half sliding across the stage and enduring an aggressive kick to his already bruised ribs from Gideon’s foot.
Gabriel reacted quickly to his brother’s betrayal, and threw himself against Gideon to wrench the valise from his grasp.
Rachel was amazed at his quickness, but her own concern was that of the contents of Peter’s valise. She threw a mental net around the bag and to whomever touched it she added to it the electric shock of her fury.
Unfortunately, when Gabriel grabbed the handle to retrieve the valise from the floor, the shock of Rachel’s security knocked it from his hands, and hitting the floor, the roleau rolled free.
Faster than lightening, she sensed Fairidai move past her. The girl had a running start, and bounded off the table in a handspring that deftly landed in the huddle of bodies that had pounced on the roleau.
“Fairidai! Stop!” Rachel could only watch as the girl moved through the tangled, human mess, jumping and twisting in a series of smooth handsprings across the stage.
Peter was not visible, Gabriel or Gideon – Rachel couldn’t determine one from the other; Iscar tried to pin one of them to the floor. Sorath was close behind Rachel and just as powerless. A wave of utter confusion rippled through the psyche of everyone in Delphi; the peace was lost.
Then, an obvious sign of someone in that cluster of bodies regenerating, and not until everyone rolled aside could she assess the damage.
Iscar stood, angrily brushing his uniform into crispness. Gabriel stood, and assisted Peter to his feet. There was no Gideon, no roleau, and no valise.
“Spokesmon!” Iscar spoke immediately. “I ask your leave to follow him. I will retrieve the roleau.”
“You’re going nowhere,” Peter assured him. “Tell me your plan!”
“Spokesmon, I vow to you. I do not condone his actions! This is an abomination! We serve the Spokesmon! I serve the Spokesmon,” he promised earnestly.
“I saw the extent of your service,” Peter told him angrily. “I’m sure you’ve had this planned from the beginning.”
“That’s not true!” Iscar hotly denied the accusation.
Gabriel stood close to Peter and Iscar knew support for himself was in question. He was desperate to show that Gideon’s actions were not his own, and to do that – he would have to return the roleau to the Spokesmon. “Time is critical,” he told her. “You must let me bring him back, and the roleau.”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Peter stepped toward him and lifted his wrist. Iscar jerked away, but Gabriel reached out to hold his arm. With a quick release, Peter removed Iscar’s cyto. “Just to be sure--”
Rachel was paralyzed watching the horror play out on the stage in front of her. Questions. Answers. Everything that would explain her purpose was in that bag; the bag she had waited for, the bag that Gideon had taken. How could she formulate a plan without the answers – again.
It was hard to remain composed; she knew all of Delphi watched her, breathless, confused. Their answers had disappeared as well and they did not even know it. How could she tell them? What would she tell them?
Rachel could barely stand on her own. She felt Peter’s arm around her waist and she willed herself to reality, even if it was one she didn’t like.
The Counselors and Ministers on the stage were speechless; such treachery had never been seen in Delphi. The lack of an oracle to focus their thoughts made it impossible for Rachel to block them out. Questions, fears, confusion. She felt it all.
“Please,” she turned to Aaron. “Will you ask everyone to give me some time? Give us some time,” she looked at Iscar. He silently pleaded with her to be released. She nodded to Gabriel to let him go, and Iscar straightened with dignity as best he could.
Aaron went to the edge of the stage. “The Spokesmon has asked for a time of reflection,” he announced. “Everyone, all of Delphi needs to take a long moment and listen to that still, small voice in your heart. Let it tell you what you need to do. The time for action is upon us. Delphi was created for this moment. What part will you play?” he asked them.
Aaron turned to Rachel with a nod and left the parapet. The others at Malkuth rose from the table without speaking, but each one gave her a salute of solidarity as they left. Sorath was at the end of that group, poised with an apology she didn’t know how to voice. Rachel hugged her tightly.
“There is nothing to say,” she whispered. “This is God’s Will – and it’s our duty to have faith in that Will.” Rachel removed the mantle from her shoulders, feeling keenly as though she’d been in the same clothes for days. She folded it gently and pressed the sacred gift into Sorath’s hands.
“Please, take care of this; it will be a while before I’m in my own quarters to put it away,” she explained. “I’ll come by to pick it up, and we can talk then,” Rachel promised.
Sorath wanted to protest, but silently took the mantle from Rachel with a nod. Still clutching it to her chest, she used her free hand to wrap Gabriel’s neck with a motherly hug and left Malkuth at the end of the line of Counselors and Ministers.
Only the little redhead lingered after the stage had emptied. There was a sheepish grin on her face, and in her hands, was Peter’s valise.
At firs
t, Rachel was stunned, hardly comprehending the prize she carried. The next burst of emotion was carried throughout Delphi, as the Spokesmon realized everything would be all right; the answers were not lost.
“Fairidai? What were you thinking?” Rachel recalled the flurry of handsprings across the stage. She fell to her knees beside the girl and hugged her tightly, not caring about the tears of joy that wet both their cheeks.
“I wasn’t thinking,” Fairidai admitted. She held out the bag for the Spokesmon with a shy smile. “I just - did.”
“Dear child!” Rachel exclaimed. “Dear friend,” she corrected herself and gave Fairidai a breathless hug. “You have no idea!”
Peter joined them, and took the valise as he helped Rachel to her feet. Fairidai’s tentative smile to Rachel and Peter was endearing, a wonderful reminder of youthful hope, Rachel thought as Fairidai skipped off the stage muttering something about tending to the Tribe.
Now only four of them remained at Malkuth.
“You know this – feud between you must end,” she told both crewmembers. “Now,” she demanded.
Peter shifted his stance to defensive and dropped his arm from her waist.
“Spokesmon,” Iscar began softly. “I implore you to trust me.”
“Trust you?!?” Peter could hardly contain his surprise, but Rachel stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“If we don’t follow quickly,” Iscar continued, “we could lose track of Gideon completely. Septor-I has technology that will chart his position, but only within a certain range.”
Rachel looked to Gabriel for confirmation, thankful for an unbiased opinion. He nodded, but she felt the urgency he projected with his affirmation.
“You will all go,” she told them, sensing Iscar’s relief. “I expect you to redeem yourself,” she told Iscar. “You owe it to Urica to prove your trustworthiness.”
“I will,” he promised. “I do.”
“Peter?” She pulled him aside. “You must find a way to work with Iscar. I know of your doubts,” she hushed his objections with a finger to his lips. “Iscar has my trust. Remember that.”
Peter tried to reply but she shook her head.
“He has my trust,” she repeated. “And you have my love.” She hugged him tightly. “I can’t believe I’m still saying goodbye to you.”
“What will you be doing?” he asked her.
“I need to make a plan,” she said. “I can do that now.” She patted the valise and held it tightly to her chest. “I don’t have time to explain, but so much has happened since I arrived in Delphi. Just be careful. And come back to me.”
Part of Rachel hoped Peter would return before she had to decide her next steps of action, but the practical side of her knew she had to plan for the unknown. The Awakening was upon them, and Rachel had to figure out what to say and do next.
Peter was clearly torn between his sense of ownership to the roleau, his distrust for Iscar, and his love for Rachel.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” he told her. “I don’t know if I can leave you, again.”
“Go.” She urged him on. “Gideon cannot keep the roleau. I’ll be fine, I promise.” She pat the bag again as proof.
He drew her into his arms tightly and kissed her with the fervor they felt at their wedding. “I will return; you are not alone.”
“I am never alone,” she agreed solemnly, and pushed him toward Iscar and Gabriel. “Nor are you,” she added cryptically. “God speed.”
“Your parents send their love,” Peter added quickly.
She watched as the three regenerated out of sight. She was the only person at Malkuth, it felt empty, but she was not alone in Delphi.
The Words of Thunder vibrated intensely as she climbed, or maybe that was the beating of her heart. She could only think about returning to the cave in the peri-strata, Ishleen’s home. Rachel considered using the cyto, but she needed the exercise to dissipate her nervous energy. Each step brought her closer to answers she sought all her life, her long life; she had learned the hard way how precious those answers would be.
“Beware,” John warned when he presented the document before the Aurora’s launch. “You only have one chance to read the scroll. Light of any kind will fade the ink, and at sunrise of the day after unveiling, the document will destroy itself.”
Finally, she made it to the echo-cave and felt the beckoning call of her personal star. But before she entered she faced Trishul, hanging in the upper elevation, and bathed in the light and love from the combined Delphi citizens. The pause gave her a moment to reflect on their centuries of support, of Iscar’s promise, and of Fairidai’s selfless act to save the Words of Thunder. There was so much to be grateful for, so much hope. Rachel wondered how to proceed, or where to start. She wondered where she would find her courage.
“Eeeoow.”
Her thoughts went to Honey, Gail’s tabby cat at the apartment, but this wasn’t the apartment and that wasn’t a tabby cat! Rachel froze in her spot and let her eyes find one of the wild cats Fairidai talked about.
It wasn’t on the ground, winding about her feet as Honey would do; she found the yellow eyes perched overhead in the darkness, not ready to spring, but glazed over and watery.
“Eeeoow,” it repeated the cry, weak and scared.
“Poor thing,” Rachel saw the young kitten had fallen into a crack. It struggled to stand and cried again from the pain of putting weight on a broken leg. The wild feline was not weaned from its mother, but now separated, and would never survive without help.
Fairidai! Please come. You know where to find me.
She sent the mental message with as much urgency - but with as little concern as she could inflict; Rachel knew exactly who would be the best doctor. Given the intensity Fairidai had bonded with the children, Rachel didn’t want to be the first to touch the animal; that imprint should be for Fairidai.
“It will only be a moment now,” she told the kitten.
She turned her back at waited patiently for Fairidai’s arrival, unwilling to let even eye contact bond the wild cat as her own. Rachel loved animals, but there was little time in her life for that responsibility. This was the best repayment she could give to Fairidai for securing the valise and its contents; her dream for a cat would finally come true.
“Why did I need to bring a blanket?” Fairidai arrived, breathless from the steep climb.
“Oh, good idea!” Rachel laughed at her forethought. “It’s to protect you from the scratches.”
“Eeoow.”
Fairidai froze, immediately searching the area for an elusive feline. Her sharp eyes found it quickly in the dim light of Trishul’s glow, and immediately she deduced the situation.
“Oh, Spokesmon!” she cried out as she began to climb. “She’s hurt!”
Rachel watched as she found her footing to the upper ledge. Within minutes, Fairidai twisted the blanket into a body sling with the kitten tucked snuggly close to her.
“I’ll take her to the Master Healer for help with her leg,” Fairidai said. “And I’ll find her something to eat; I can see she needs some help. I’d better start with milk.”
Rachel saw the child’s thoughts move into to methodical planning-mode and laughed to herself.
“Yes,” Rachel agreed. “She will need your help.”
“Can I keep her?” Fairidai asked, stroking the kitten snuggled into her sling.
“If she lets you,” Rachel told her. “That’s the thing about cats; they pick their owners.”
A muffled cry came from the sling and Rachel laughed again. “She’s telling you to stop talking and pay attention to her!”
“I will,” Fairidai promised, and then sobered. “I guess you have some thinking to do, yourself,” she nodded to the private cavern. “I should leave you.”
Rachel sighed, but nodded with a smile. “Yes,” she confirmed and patted Fairidai on the shoulders. “But I have you to thank. This bag was extremely valuable to me, and you acted selflessly even
where I could not.” Rachel picked up the valise. “Everything is perfect.”
“Eeoow!” The reminder made them both laugh.
“Thank you, Spokesmon! I don’t really feel like I did anything – but I sure won the grand prize!”
“Go on,” Rachel pushed her gently. “And tell Aaron I said everything was going to be fine. I just need some time to think.”
“Yes, Spokesmon! We all feel it.”
Rachel stood in the darkness, quickly unable to see the girl moving down the path, and finally not hearing her footsteps either. She was alone, and now it was time to begin without distractions.
Rachel cast out her feeling around Delphi; Fairidai was right, Delphi was at peace. The meditations had calmed everyone even without the Oracle’s vibration. The heartbeat of Delphi had returned to the citizens of this beautiful city, and fear had been conquered. That was an enormous achievement, Rachel realized, since the last action they had seen was their Septorian fighting with his command staff.
Rachel brushed aside those memories. No distractions! This was the day she finally had answers. Holding the valise tightly, she slipped through the crevice into Ishleen’s radiation.
The room was bright enough for her to move through the natural wonders and find the spot at the rock where Urica carved the heart. She sat with her back to the stone, with Ishleen beaming from over her shoulder. The occasional drips into the phosphorous pool echoed gently around the room, and Rachel wondered if stirring the waters would eliminate the repetitions. She decided not to try; the echoes were a pleasant song.
The bag was in her lap; a valise so worn no one would understand the full value of its contents. The leather smelled of Peter and his travels to many and distant lands. Rachel was almost hesitant to open it – remembering the moment on the plane when she had discovered his flight suit for the Aurora’s launch.
But Peter hadn’t launched; he married her instead, and the valise became the home of the near-completed roleau, as well as the tubular leather case for the gift from John to the Spokesmon – the Words of Thunder, that mysterious document Uri said would help her remember how to talk to everyone for God! No pressure there, she laughed to herself.
